Unholy
by ohgeekyone
Summary: They were one. Her constant. Her reason for existing. Her unholy addiction. A short continuation of what happens after S3.
1. And with words unspoken

**This is just a short story about what I imagine would happen after the series finale. It is angsty and contains incest and not historically accurate in the slightest, but it is simply my imagination.**

**The love I have for these two is unlike anything. Their love is so tragic, hopeless and beautiful it overwhelms me in the best and worst way.**

**Please leave your thoughts; it's nice to know what you think!**

* * *

Lucrezia sat by the window in her room, gazing down at the bustling city that surrounded her palace. She could hear the sound of the birds as they flew freely over the landscape, diving and soaring in patterns that her eyes did not follow. She could hear the shouts of vendors at the market, trying to find the customers who would provide the money they needed to sustain their families. She tried to imagine being one of them – yes, she would be poor, powerless and inconsequential but she wondered if she would care. A year ago, she would have been disgusted at the thought. She loved being able to use her wit and her beauty to gain leverage, to gain power. Being a Borgia was synonymous with power. And wealth. A year ago that was all that mattered to her.

Now the Borgia name had become synonymous with murder.

She had always known her family utilised any means at their disposal to get what they wanted. She used to admire them for it, feeling proud to be part of a unit that would not accept any kind of threat to them. She was the most fiercely protected woman in the country and it made her feel worthy and safe and loved.

Love.

_Cesare._

She sighed.

Was there a difference?

As she turned her face away from the window, she wondered if Cesare was right. Did impossible love turn to addiction? When he had said it, she did not think much of his words; she had been more focused on his body pressed against her back, his strong and loving arms around her waist, his words blowing breath into her hair and causing shivers to erupt over her body in a way not even Paolo could manage. Now she thought about it, she decided he was correct. The love she had for her brother was not the normal kind of love one had for their sibling. Indeed, she did not think the love she had for Cesare was normal at all, sibling, lover or spouse. Their love was unique and unprecedented. Special and sacred. Nobody had ever loved as they loved. If the average loving husband cared for his wife as she cared for Cesare, the city below her would not be bustling. It would be silent, for every man would be in his wife's arms and would hold her and whisper sweet promises into her ear as Cesare so often did with Lucrezia. But alas, she knew she was right. She could hear the heartbeat of Rome as its occupants went about their day. Their love, it seemed, did not consume their every thought.

Cesare consumed her.

Her eyes, as blue as the ocean, focused on the bed across from her and her heart skipped a beat. She could recall the night last week with perfect clarity. The look in her husband's eyes that said he didn't know her and the doubt that he ever had. The tears that dripped onto his bloodied face from her eyes as she held the formidable glass to his lips. The sound of Cesare's voice as he called her name from the doorway, first with apprehension then with alarm. Her heart only started to beat normally when she remembered the sheer panic in his voice. He had thought she had killed herself and he had sounded more panicked than she ever heard any man sound.

Perhaps she had died that night.

The old Lucrezia was gone. Never again would she be proud to be a Borgia. Alfonso's last words had made sure of that. Never again would she look at her brother with the same naïve eyes she once had. Never again would she love her Papa as she used to, before he married her off to the worst sort of man, an ungallant and cruel being with harsh hands and a harsher mind.

The only constant from her old life to her new was her brother. She would always love him, more than she had ever loved anyone or anything. More than she loved herself. And even though she hated herself for thinking it, she loved Cesare more than her darling Giovanni. She would die for both in a heartbeat, but if anything happened to Giovanni, Cesare would get her through it – she knew that for a fact. If, however, it was Cesare that ceased to be… She would not survive it. She was bound to him in a way that nobody would ever comprehend. Even after everything he had done, everything she had done, their love remained. It was not the pure love it had once been, she knew that. Years ago, he had loved her innocence and she had loved his strength. Now they were in love with the other's soul. Body. Mind. In love with the very essence of the other, for they were the same.

They were one.

Her constant.

Her reason for existing.

Her unholy addiction.

Yes, she thought, as she turned to the window once more, Cesare was right: impossible love turned to addiction.

She idly wondered if they would survive it.

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**I have already written the story; the next chapter is coming soon. I hope you enjoyed it!**


	2. A silent devotion

The knock on her door snapped her out of her reverie.

"Yes?" It was the first time she had spoken in days. Nobody had visited her since the death of Alfonso – she assumed Cesare had ordered them to leave her alone to come to terms.

Speak of the devil.

He did not speak as her entered the room. They simply stared at each other, reading in the others eyes what they needed to know.

_She was broken._

_He was sorry._

_She would never be the same._

_He didn't want her to be._

_She loved him still._

_He worshipped her._

_She hated herself for loving him._

_He couldn't bear it if she didn't._

At last, he walked over to her slowly, his eyes burning into hers the whole time. He reached her as she perched by the window and moved so that he was as close to her as he could get, his legs against her knees. He placed his hands – his soft and capable hands – on each side of her face and urged her up so that he could rest his forehead on hers.

"My love, you are not eating enough," he whispered, his voice warm yet worried.

She said nothing. What could she say? She was not hungry. Food was inconsequential.

He sighed when he read her thoughts in her eyes. "You need to eat, sis."

She knew this. She needed to return to the land of the living. People counted on her. Giovanni needed her. And Cesare needed her like he needed oxygen.

So she brought her hands up to his beautiful face and pushed his hair back from it. His eyes were full of concern for her and torment over what had transgressed.

"Cesare…" Her voice was not even a whisper on his lips. His name was part of her breath and he inhaled it greedily. Her life force exited her lips and he took it into his body and vice versa – it had always been this way.

She could remember a time before the Borgia name was corrupted, when herself, Cesare and Juan were playing in a field near the house. She had just turned thirteen and had heard her father and mother discussing betrothals.

"_What does a betrothal mean for me, brother?" A young Lucrezia asked, her eyes looking up from the flower chain she was making to stare at Cesare. As always, he was struck with her beauty and became irrationally angry at the thought of her sharing it with anyone other than him and the rest of their family._

"_It means you will be married to a man of father's choosing," Cesare replied, his fists curling by his sides at the thought. She was too young and too naïve of the world to be bartered off to someone who would not care about her gentle soul._

"_And what then?" _

"_Then the old man will fuc—" Juan started to say, but stopped short when Cesare took a threatening step towards him. He smirked at his brother, pleased that he had managed to rile him. "He will be the one to protect you," Juan finished, his eyes daring his brother to take another step._

_Little Lucrezia was oblivious to the tension between the two. "Well what about you two? Will you no longer protect me?"_

_His anger at Juan forgotten, Cesare spun around to face his little sister, a stricken look on his face. "Of course not, love. We will always protect you."_

"_Good," she smirked, pleased that her brother cared in such an obvious way. They were a close knit family, especially her and Cesare. He had such a temper and she had discovered long ago that it was only her that could calm him. He would quieten for his father, in fear of disappointing him, but for her he would truly forget his anger, his passion. They knew each other inside and out. He was the one she went to when she scraped her knee, when she had a bad dream, when her father had shouted at her. They relied on each other for comfort and Lucrezia was horrified that after her marriage she would not have such a thing. The reassurance that his words provided gave her such pleasure. _

"_And you, Juan? Will you protect me also?" She spoke to her other brother but kept her eyes on Cesare's. They were so beautiful – she had heard the maids giggling in corners about his looks and she had seen the way women throughout Rome stared at him when he was near. Whenever she saw their prying eyes she felt a stab of jealousy – he was hers to look upon, hers to look at. She usually grabbed his hand to bring his attention back to her but noticed the way his eyes stayed on the pretty women for a little longer than she liked. He would often leave her to retrace his steps when he knew she was safe and she knew that he went to find them – the girls who distracted his attention however momentarily. _

"_Of course, little sister," Juan said, his eyes on the ground as he slowly walked towards the girl amongst the flowers. He glanced at Cesare as he spoke his next words, a mocking undertone lacing them that neither Lucrezia or Cesare noticed as they were too wrapped up in each other. "Always."_


	3. But I think I'm ready

His name on her lips made his breath shake with need. Not just physical need – but there was that… there was _always_ that – but emotional too. Every bone in his body yearned to be close to her and his mind needed it even more, needed her gentle voice and soothing words, needed the touch of her every-forgiving hands and the caress of her mouth on his skin.

"What, my love?" He gently touched his nose to hers and he was pleased to note that it made her eyes close and a light sigh to escape her perfect lips. She was affected too. _Good_.

"Do you—" she stopped herself, opening her eyes and finding strength in his stare. "Do you love me, still?"

His hands tightened on her face and moved her impossibly closer. Silly girl. "Lucrezia, I love you more than anything. Why would you ask such a thing? Is it not obvious?"

She found her shoulders shrugging in an attempt to save face. She did not like to cry in front of him – the Borgias were strong and tears were not permitted. "I killed my husband, Cesare."

"No, my love, no," he immediately responded, unable to hear her speak with such defeat. "It was an accident."

Then why, she wondered, had he been so adamant that she did not move closer to her husband as he lay on the wooden floor of her house, bleeding and dying. He had held her back with such strength and determination – if it was an accident, why did he stop her? Why had she had to beg him to call for a medic?

She opened her mouth to ask those questions, trying to make sense out of the feelings of loss, guilt and despair she felt over a husband she never really loved the way he deserved, but before she could speak his mouth was on hers. As always, he was insistent and demanding with his kiss, as though his passion could not be controlled. Even then, when she was still reeling from the week before and feeling dead inside, she relished in the thought of it. She used to calm him and now she riled him. And as always, she succumbed to his passion and his determination, her body falling limp into his arms that were ready to catch her.

And every doubt she had in her head flew out without a second thought.

_And God came rushing back._

His tongue entered her mouth and she did not hesitate to open her mouth and allow it. Her hands slid to around his neck, pulling him even closer at the same time his hand grasped her hair and urged her forwards. Not a millimetre between them. Never.

"Mine," his voice whispered into her mouth, an echo of the last time they had spoken.

_Naked. Clean. Bloodless. __**Mine**__._

If she did not know Cesare as she did, she would wonder if she truly was his. He made love to other women. He pulled away from her often when his guilt became too much. He allowed that animal, the King of Naples, to watch her husband consummate their marriage. But she did know him, better than she even knew herself so she knew without a doubt in her mind or her heart that she belonged to him as much as he belonged to her.

With every ounce of her being.

She had seen the look on his face when Alfonso had humped away at her, not realising she could not take her eyes off her brother. They never could resist straying to his face when he was in the same room - never had and never would. It was he she imagined on top of her, then. He whose breath ticked her ear, whose moans echoed throughout the room. It was the only way she could have gotten through the ordeal.

So as he sighed the possessive noun into her mouth with the same amount of surety his lips possessed, she knew it was true.

She was his. Always.


	4. As long as you're with me

The next day found her sitting with him at the table, eating fruit from his fingers like one would feed a child. He was telling her what she had missed while she had been mourning and she listened with only half an ear; she was more focused on the sound of his voice that was missing the strain of remorse it had the day before. She had fixed him once more, it seemed. And now he was fixing her, slowly but surely.

"Naples is angry," he was saying as he captured her hand to lick off the juice of the fruit that dripped down her fingers. "They want compensation for the death of—"

His pause made her stiffen, still not completely ready to discuss the young boy whose only fault was loving her, a woman whose heart was given away a long time ago.

"Anyway," he continued quickly, not wanting her focus to waiver. He bit her finger lightly to take her mind off his slip. "They want money. Father is considering giving it to them just to quieten them."

"He should," she declared. "They need silencing once and for all and if money does that then what is the harm? We have enough."

He fed her more, his thumb lingering to brush across her lip to remove extra liquid. It was so sensual she could not help but capture his thumb in her mouth and suck lightly, drawing his eyes to her mouth. His lips parted and he exhaled shakily, moving his chair closer to hers.

It was then that the door in the far corner opened and he ripped his hand away from her face and shifted so that the hardness in his trousers was not visible. The world was not ready to know that the rumours were true. He wondered if it ever would be.

It was simply the maid coming to refill their goblets with more wine and she left after a short moment in the same silence that had greeted her.

As soon as she left, he grabbed her soft hand once more and this time brought her fingers to his mouth. He kissed each and every one delicately, as though she would break if he pressed his lips ay harder.

"They do not deserve a thing," he growled around her little finger, his tongue swiping around it. It was oddly erotic, Lucrezia thought. She could not imagine it being so with any other man – only him. Only her Cesare.

"If it keeps them from prying, brother, surely we should just pay the swine," she suggested breathily, not really focused on the conversation they were forcing.

He paused. "He tried to keep you from me."

As usual, her heart swelled with love, love that his words evoked. It always did. Even when he threatened harm to others on her behalf, she found that she fell more in love with him rather than becoming appalled as she should have done. It showed his dedication to her, his love for her, his possessiveness over her. All she ever wanted from a man was to be wanted and loved and Cesare was the only man that ever did.

"Never," she murmured. And it was true. Nothing and nobody could ever keep them apart. They needed each other, two halves of the same circle. Everyone who had tried was dead.

Except this King, the one who had betrayed them both.

"He has to suffer with the knowledge that a silly little girl outwitted him. That is punishment enough."

He nodded in response but his eyes were still alight with leftover anger. She had heard this rage in his snapped, "I want my sister," she had overheard on the road to Rome.

It was an understatement, she thought with amusement.

She dreaded to think what could have happened if Alfonso had not recognised Cesare that night. Their reunion had caused her husband such grief but she had not cared – her and her love had been reunited and it was like coming home. Alfonso would never have understood that, just as he would never have invoked the same feeling, even if they had been married for decades.

He would never be Cesare. Nobody would.

"Then I shall advise father to pay the fee, if that is what you want, sweet sister. But know I would take my army to war if that was what you wanted."

Her response was a smile that radiated contentment. She was wanted. She was loved.

"_I will make you happy,"_ he had once said.

And he did.

He did.


	5. Being as in love with you as I am

From then on, things changed. Lucrezia came to life more and more each day under Cesare's watchful eye and loving hands. He came to her every night to ensure she was looking after herself and her son with every means at their disposal. He made her smile every night, telling her stories of the corrupt men in the College of Cardinals and how their father belittled them in his own way. He was trying to form some sort of alliance with Florence despite Cesare's reassurance that they would do nothing, as they were renowned for. Florence did not need to be bought in any way. Yet their Holy Father did not want to take chances. He was considering annulling little Joffre's marriage and marrying him to Florence. Lucrezia had laughed at the thought of her Papa trying to annul a marriage that was the only relatively happy one in the family, even if the happiness was borne out of ignorance rather than real contentment. Her love brought her back to life slowly but surely, whispering his love and affection and desire in her ear at every opportunity. Every morning when she woke, he was lying by her, watching her sleep with such love and happiness in his eyes it made her throw her arms around his body every single morning and press herself against him. He never pulled away. Not once.

That morning was no exception.

Pressed against him, hearing his sigh against her naked shoulder was enough to make her mind up. They had been without each other for long enough. Their reconciliation was not yet complete. But it would be.

She began peppering his neck and jaw with feather light kisses, her tongue scraping against his facial hair every now and then. She felt his lips pucker against her skin to respond in kind. He needed no words of reassurance. No, "Are you sure?" would come from him. He knew. He always did.

He deftly rolled them so that he was on top of her, pressing her into the soft bed and gripping onto her waist so hard that she knew it would bruise. She smiled into his mouth at the thought. A visible mark of their passion. Her soul was marked and forever would be. What was a bruise on her skin compared to a lifetime with his life and hers intertwined? Even in death, they were both going to Hell, surely. A bruise was nothing compared to an eternity in Hell. But they would be together… and that was all that mattered to her.

She could feel his erection pressed against her through the thin material of his clothing. She quickly untied the leather bounds, pushed the item down his legs and quickly grabbed hold of what hung heavy between his legs. He felt perfect in her hand. It was more reassurance that what they were doing was so _right_.

He hissed through his teeth and bit her shoulder in response, causing her to cry out. His hand swept from her waist to her mouth, covering it so her household staff did not hear.

"Please," she whispered from behind his fingers, darting her tongue out to taste them.

"Anything for you, my love," he responded, moving his hand to replace it with his lips. He did not need to check if she was ready. He knew she was. She was always prepared to take him into her body, like she was made for him. Made to love him in every way.

He entered her slowly, savouring every single second. It was not the first time they had done this and would certainly not be the last, yet every time was special. It was another time they said yes to allowing themselves the pleasure of love without the restrictions society placed on them. And saying yes felt _beautiful_.

"Lucrezia," he groaned quietly, her name sounding like a prayer.

To him, it was. She was his salvation far more than God ever had been or ever would be. She was his purpose for living, who he would worship till the day he died and beyond. People adored God with such absolute certainty, with such surety and with such fervour. To him, their love of God paled in comparison to his love for Lucrezia. Micheletto, his only friend, was the only person who knew this. He saw the love, the adoration, the worship. Cesare's sole mission now was to make Lucrezia see that. She needed to know how she was loved without any doubts in her mind. He needed to wash away the past, the good and bad. Needed to start anew.

And this was the beginning of that transformation. He would love her with every ounce of his being until she forgot the men who came before him and the women who came before her, until she forgot his past misgivings and sins. He would make sure they never tainted her sweet mind again.

He thrust harder at the thought and her sighs and whimpers spurred him on. It was only like this that she gave herself up to him completely. He lived for it.

They reached their ecstasy together as they always did, never letting one go somewhere where the other was not. And as always, the Earth moved beneath them.

He lay with her for hours after, forgetting his tasks for the day. Nobody disturbed them as they lay under the covers of the bed, laughing like children over silly things and exchanging kisses – both chaste and ardent – as though they were newlyweds. Perhaps, Cesare thought, in some ways they were. They were starting a new life together, even if it was a secret life. For they could never be publicly affectionate. Nobody would understand. They were soulmates who simply happened to be brother and sister. Their familial connections were trivial in comparison to the enormous love between the two of them. They were soulmates first, lovers second and family last.

He thought back to the time when he had only half-jokingly suggested running away to a village on the coast and changing their names. He wondered how far they would have to go so that nobody knew them.

As he tucked his little love under his arm and held her so close that it was impossible to see where one ended and the other began, he made a mental note to find such a village.

For he was sure he would be in need of it soon. Their love was too obvious now – they had passed the point of no return. Their father was a busy man but he was astute: he would notice the change in their relationship if they stayed for much longer. Their only other option was to see each other in private only and he would never subject his sister to such an ordeal. He would not be ashamed of her.

He glanced down to see that Lucrezia had fallen asleep once more. Her soothing breaths soon got the better of him and he joined her in the land of dreams. He dreamt of the village they would eventually call home, where they could be man and wife and raise Giovanni and hopefully other children of their own.

Cesare Borgia fell asleep with a smile on his face.

And so did Lucrezia.

He had fulfilled his promise – she was happy once more.

And that was enough to keep them strong when everything else was against them.

It was enough to prove that their love was natural. Unholy, perhaps, but right.

They were clean and bloodless together.

And each other's.

Always.


End file.
